


Glesca Kiss

by obstinatrix



Category: British Actor RPF, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinatrix/pseuds/obstinatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James wants to give Michael a taste of Yule in the north.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glesca Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts).



There's not much James hates as intensely as the sound of bagpipes. As far as James is concerned, the only people who like (or think they like) that racket are the people who were lucky enough not to grow up with it; James would rather listen to his granny fart into a brown paper bag, as he tells Michael pointedly, smacking his arm in mock-indignation when Michael doubles over giggling. Bagpipes are fuckin' horrendous, beloved only of Americans with their weird fetish for synthesising _Amazing Grace_ through an aereated windbag, and if James could erase them from existence, he would. 

Apart from that, though, Christmas in Glasgow is well braw. 

It reminds him of being a kid, this does; hands stuffed fiercely into the pockets of his jacket against the cold, the city centre festooned with lights. _Christmas_ in Glasgow isn't Christmas the way the English do it, more a sort of elongated period of drunkenness that stretches from St Andrew's Day to Hogmanay, and James loves it, misses it, wants Michael to learn the warmth of it in the cold northern air. 

"Here," James says, fishing a chocolate bar out of his pocket and snapping it deftly in two. "You've not been to Glasgow till you've had a Lee's Mint Cream. Never seen the like, have you, eh?" 

Michael laughs softly, taking the proffered slab of chocolate. "Can't say I'm familiar." 

"Well-kept secret, mate." James throws him a wink right before he stuffs his portion into his mouth, and the way Michael's face crinkles up in amusement is worth the discomfort of having to squash down slightly too much fondant into submission. Michael's just so bloody _smiley_ , so fucking amiable and gentle and, well, James has to admit, he's pure lush. Mouth ower-full with fondant, eyes on Michael, James is just wishing he was stuffed to the gills with Michael's dick instead, all that cock stretching his throat wide enough that he'd feel it for days. 

"James?" Michael's hand on his arm, then, tentative. James drags himself back to the land of the living and smiles. 

"What'd you think?" A full sentence, sort of. There's a smear of dark chocolate at the corner of Michael's mouth, and James is _well_ tempted to lean up and lick it off, kiss it away, but God he was brought up better than that and Michael, Michael is here on James's invitation, for a _holiday_ , not to be molested. James clenches his fists in his pockets. 

"Tastes like an After Eight," Michael says. 

It's true, but James can't let that stand, all the same. Lee's stuff is _legendary_. " _Better_ , though, I hope?" 

"Mmmm." Michael's eyes are twinkling, that indefinable sea-green-grey tinted blue in the glow of the fairylights. "I dunno. I do like Scottish things." 

The corners of his mouth are turning up. James feels his stomach do a slow flip. The way Michael's looking at him now, James doesn't think he can be mistaken. Surely...

"Yeah?" His breath is short in his throat; he's fairly clamming with it, voice echoing in his ears, but -- 

"Yeah." He needn't have worried. Michael's still smiling when he leans in, brushes long fingers against James's cheek. They're off the main thoroughfare, Glasgow bustling around them, but set apart, safe. When Michael touches his lips to James's, James lifts his head, closes his eyes. 

There's nothing like Christmas in Glasgow.


End file.
